


You will never be lonely

by UpInOrbit



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood, Depictions of Murder, Ghosts, I swear it's not that bad I just have to tag it, Implied or reference dream ot7, It's a ghost story so obviously there's character death, M/M, Medium Renjun, Non Linear Narrative, Theme day: Ghosts, Violence, happy ending i guess, see notes for more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpInOrbit/pseuds/UpInOrbit
Summary: He turns around and bolts, hoping that he can run faster than whatever being was in the house can follow.The door gets closed shut as soon as he is out the building, but still, Renjun runs. He runs, hard and fast, his lungs burning with every stride, every breath. He runs as if the Devil was after him, as if he is trying to outrun death.And maybe, he is.





	You will never be lonely

**Author's Note:**

> So, first things first. I'd like to thank the mod for hosting this fic fest, it really motivated me to write something for Halloween.  
Second things second, I know the tags make it sound bad but I swear it's not that much??? I like my happy endings so there's bad things because there's ghosts and for there to be ghosts people have to die but I don't think it's as bad as I made it sound (if you want more info on this, tho, look at the ending notes).  
I really hope you enjoy this, it has been fun but extremely tiring to try and make all the puzzle pieces together but! I'm pretty satisfied with how it all ended, honestly, so I hope you do too!! Big thanks to the 9900 group chats, you are the best and I love you all so much, and special thanks to Marta, Alice, Bel and Alba for reading this and hyping it up, I really appreciated it <333  
Last important bit of information, just know that I basically wrote this whole thing to a one hour loop of [X1's Flash](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlQEKB2H7z4), which sounds like a weird song to write a ghost story to but is surprisingly inspiring, so go check it out!! The title of the fic comes from NCT Dream's Fireflies!  
And now, I'll leave you to it!

The floorboards are dusty and half rotten, bloated due to the humid air. They dig uncomfortably into his knees and shins, and they screech with his every move. The floor is covered in grime and littered with trash and an array of broken objects, while cobwebs paint the doors in white. The windows don’t close properly, and cold gusts of wind slip through the cracks in the glass, frozen fingers that pull at his clothes and hair, and make the timid candles flicker.

He has been there for a while but, if anyone were to ask him just how long it has been since he had gotten there, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Time doesn’t matter when seconds and minutes and hours blend into days that mesh into months that turn into years. It doesn’t matter how long he has been there, whether it has been a minute or two, an hour or two. 

What matters is the room, with the dusty and rotten floorboards, it’s cracked windows and wind that never ceases to blow inside. What matters is the process, however long it takes, however strenuous it might be. 

He knows they’ll come. They always do.

Finally, it happens. The candles stop flickering, even if the wind does not cease to blow.

He straightens his spine and raises his head, ears straining to hear the faintest of sounds. They are silent, even more so than usual, but that doesn’t deter him.

_“You shouldn’t be here_,” it’s faint, a whisper barely audible above the screeching of the house, but he hears it. He always does. He waits for the boy to say something else, but he never does.

“My name is—“

_“We know who you are, Renjun_,” the voice hisses, enraged. Renjun balls his hands into fists on his lap, then relaxes them. He’s not too surprised.

“Then you know why I’m here,” he replies, his tone soothing.

_“We told you to leave!”_ The boy raises his voice and all the doors and windows in the room, except for the one to Renjun’s back, the one that leads to the exit, violently get closed shut. The temperature drops and Renjun shivers. 

_“You’re scaring him,”_ another voice, deeper, calmed, speaks. Renjun raises his eyes, looks for both of them.

_“He should be scared!”_ The first one replies, but the voice quivers, regret seeping into its tone, and the temperature raises back to normal. _“I’m sorry_,” he adds, remorse colouring his words. The doors stay shut.

Renjun shakes his head, sketches a smile. He tries to look for them, with no success. He can’t see them yet, but they can see him.

“It’s okay. I’m here to help you.”

_“He is right, Renjun. You need to leave_.”

Renjun frowns. “I want to help you.”

_“You can’t,_” both of them reply at once, two disembodied voices fused into one.

“_It’s too late now_.”

“_You need to get out of here and leave all this behind, move on and never come back, Renjun_,” the second of them says, surprisingly gentle.

“I can’t leave you here,” he protests.

_“You can and you will, Renjun_,” the one who had spoken first says, firmly. _“You have to, for—“ _Whatever it is that he wants to say gets lost when his companion hisses, effectively shutting him up. 

_“Jeno…?”_ But Jeno ignores the question, the sudden twinge of worry in the other’s tone.

_“You have to, Renjun. It’s not safe_,” he sounds as if he’s speaking through clenched teeth, tense.

Renjun furrows his brows. “What are you talking about? Why isn’t it safe?”

_“He’s here, Jeno_,” there’s urgency and a growing fear in the voice. _“He’s here, we need to go. You need to go too, Renjun, you can’t be here when he arrives_.”

“What are you talking about? Is he a ghost? Nothing will happen to me, ghosts can’t harm the living.”

_“This one can hurt you, Renjun. Please trust us, you need to leave.”_

“But—“

_“Leave, Renjun,”_ Renjun purses his lips to complain but he doesn’t get the chance to. The temperature drops, colder than it was before, so cold it’s freezing, and wind suddenly starts blowing inside the closed room, making the objects around him fly, projectiles without trajectory. _“Renjun, get out! Now!”_

Renjun can tell there's something different, even without Jeno’s warning. There's a pang of iron in the air, the smell of rotten meat quickly spreading throughout the room. He can almost taste the salt and blood on his lips, coating his tongue, extending down his throat until it's the only thing he can focus on.

Around him, a small hurricane starts to form, so strong it threatens to throw Renjun to the floor. He raises his arms, to shield his face and neck, as if that were protection enough. 

The door behind him hits the wall with a bang as it is forced open and when Renjun turns around, he sees it, if only for a split second: a boy, half-translucent, blonde hair framing his face. He's staring wide-eyed at Renjun, screaming for him to leave. Beside him, there's another boy, nothing more than a faded silhouette. 

Renjun barely catches a glimpse of washed-out pink before the blood in his mouth, the rot in the air, turn unbearable, so strong it almost makes him retch.

He turns around and bolts, hoping that he can run faster than whatever being was in the house can follow.

The door gets closed shut as soon as he is out the building, but still, Renjun runs. He runs, hard and fast, his lungs burning with every stride, every breath. He runs as if the Devil was after him, as if he is trying to outrun death. 

And maybe, he is.

***

_“Where are we going?” The question comes out in pants as they run._

_A petite boy turns around, his face delicate, framed by the morning Sun. He grins wide and wild, his eyes shining with exhilaration, not pausing to answer._

_“Just wait! You’ll see when we get there.”_

_He starts running faster, almost sprinting across the road, his silhouette dark against the sky. Behind him, shadows follow him, sewn to his feet._

Click.

Rewind.

Play.

***

There are police cars in front of the house the next time Renjun returns. There are so many of them, police swarming around the building, going in and out without pause. 

The police lights paint everything in an eerie blue and red light, almost the same effect as when he wore the glasses with red and green coloured lenses as a kid. It's more as if he's sat in the cinema, than standing on the sidewalk, watching the police work; more a film than reality.

Renjun purses his lips, pushes the thought away.

Finally, he tears his eyes away from them and stares at the house. It keeps calling Renjun, preventing him from looking at anything else. Its like the effect of a magnet, opposite poles attracting each other until they can't be separated, or maybe, like a moth drawn to the flame, a pull too strong to resist, until it gets too close and burns away.

The police haven't brought anything out from the house, but Renjun doesn't need them to. He already has an inkling of why they’ve come to the building.

Renjun bites his lips, deep in thought. There will be no getting in the house this night, that much is obvious, not with those many cops around. Someone is bound to see him try.

And yet, he doesn't want to leave empty-handed. It has taken him long, longer than he's willing to admit, to build-up whatever confidence, courage, will, he needed to set foot in the house once again.

He stares at the cops coming in and out of the building, the yellow tape they’ve plastered around it. He wonders how long they’ll hog the house, how long until he can go back inside. If they’re there for the reason he thinks they are, much longer than he’s willing to wait.

There’s something about that house, about those boys. It calls to him, it takes over his mind, even when he’s far from it, and he knows he has to go back inside. He won’t be able to rest until then.

Renjun is so far gone in his head that he doesn’t hear the man approaching, doesn’t see him until it’s too late and he’s appeared at his back, trapping Renjun between him and the car he was hiding behind.

“Hey, little one, are you lost? Do you need help?” 

Renjun turns around, eyes wide, and freezes, like a deer caught in the lights of a car. He stays still for a moment, his hand raised to cover his throat and face, unmoving under the worried look of the man. He’s wearing a police uniform that stretches over his broad shoulders, face half hidden under the cap he’s wearing. His almond-shaped eyes stare at Renjun closely, undisguised concern shining in his gaze.

“I’m fine, thank you. I don’t need any help,” he replies. Somehow, that makes the frown in the other’s face deepen.

“Are you sure? I can help you, if you let me. What’s you name?”

Renjun opens his mouth to reply, but before he can do so, another voice calls.

“Doie! Where are you?”

The man tears his eyes away from Renjun to reply to his partner, who jogs up to them.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was talking to—” the man starts, but he turns his head to look at Renjun and stops speaking, never finishing his sentence. 

“Doyoung? Is everything alright? Where’s that kid you were talking about?”

Doyoung nods, lips pressed into a thin line. He stares at the space the boy was occupying just a few seconds ago, but no longer.

“Don’t worry, Jae. It’s nothing,” he replies with a strained smile. 

His partner seems unconvinced, but he recognizes the lines around Doyoung’s mouth, the downward curve of his lips, and he knows better than to press for answers. Instead, he turns around and leads them forward, speaking over his shoulder to fill the other in.

Doyoung follows suit, but not before his eyes linger on the vacant space the boy used to take: he has vanished, disappearing into thin air, like a poodle of water under the Sun, a mirage in the desert, almost as if he had never been there at all.

***

_The screen is black. _

_At first it seems like the lens was covered but then there’s a hissing sound and fourteen little dots of light appear on it. Candles on a cake. A birthday party._

_There’s screaming, the kind of excited screaming that can only come from teenagers, an unintelligible mix of guttural shouting and birthday wishes. It translates to a screeching sound coming from the camera, loud and piercing._

Fastforward. 

Dark figures hurry in and out of frame until the camera focus on just one of them.

Play.

_“Is this for me?” The lights are still off, so the boy’s face cannot be seen, but surprise and shock colour his words as he carefully wraps his hands around the camera. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he brings the camera closer._

_“Of course it’s for you! Now you can record anything you want, everything that happens to us!” The camera turns around, showing another boy, the dim light behind him catching on the frame of his glasses._

_He moves forward and…_

The screen goes black.

***

"Doie," Doyoung looks up from his paper as he hears Jaehyun voice. "Come here."

"What is it?"

Jaehyun's table is littered with papers, notepads and empty pens. Whenever Doyoung questions the desk's disarray, Jaehyun merely waves his concerns away, claiming there's order in chaos. Doyoung highly doubts that as he carefully places his hand on the table while keeping an eye on the cup of coffee, trying not to disturb the delicate equilibrium that prevents it from spilling its content.

"We've had a match on our John Doe."

"That was quick," he replies, leaning over Jaehyun's shoulder.

"Apparently his parents filled out a missing person's report. Here he is," Jaehyun clicks on something and the screen is taken up by the report. 

Doyoung peers at it, the face innocently staring back at him from the computer. He's smiling brightly, not bothered by anything, unsuspecting of what was to come. Doyoung swallows, briefly wishes he could have become something else, anything other than a cop.

"Poor kid," he whispers, a lump in his throat.

"Poor family," Jaehyun adds, his usual cheerfulness replaced by something grim, sombre. “Still waiting for him to come home."

"They're all waiting," Doyoung whispers. Jaehyun turns around to look at him, confused. Doyoung leans over him, his eyes scanning the page, and clicks on something in the upper left corner. The screen changes and Jaehyun swears, "he is not the only one who went missing that day."

***

It is well over three in the morning when the last of the police cars disappear into the distance, and a little under four in the morning when Renjun decides it is safe for him to come out from hiding.

The police officer who had tried to speak to him was long gone but Renjun stayed where he was, not willing to risk running into someone else. It is only when he’s sure they’ve all left that he inches away from his hiding spot, stepping into the dim light of the lamppost.

Standing in the middle of the circle of light, Renjun quickly scans his surroundings, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of his palms, his nails leaving marks like half-moons on them. He forces himself to relax, holding his breath.

Renjun turns his head to the left, extends one hand to the right. His fingers grasp nothing but air. Then he realizes what he’s doing and frowns, confused. His hand falls to his side once again, and he shakes his head, breaking free of his reverie. He jogs up to the building.

There’s yellow tape around the house, bright against the darkness, impossible to miss. In bold, black letters, _Police line: do not cross_, is written across it. Ignoring it, Renjun ducks under the tape and climbs the porch, only to find the main door closed, more tape stuck to it. Scowling, Renjun turns around and seeks another possible entrance.

There’s a small window on the left side of the house, almost too high for him to reach and too narrow for him to pass, but Renjun is nothing but stubborn and so, he finds the rotten remains of a wooden chair, half hidden among the overgrown weeds and uses it as support to climb through the window.

***

"You shouldn't be here."

Renjun turns around, but the boy is nowhere to be seen. He waits in silence, and finally, in the left corner of the room, a figure starts to appear. He's barely a silhouette, invisible against the wall except for the subtle shimmering that accompanies him, but it's enough for Renjun to see him.

"You're alone today? Where's Jeno?"

The boy seems to hesitate, unsure of whether or not to answer. He shrugs slightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"He's resting. He doesn't have enough strength to show himself today."

Renjun nods, understanding. It’s not the first time that’s happened, and manifesting themselves like Jeno did last time always tires them, rendering them unable to manifest themselves, the ghostly version of a black out. Renjun tilts his head to the side. His eyes never leave the boy, who seems to be slowly turning a little more corporeal with every passing minute.

"I still don't know your name," Renjun tries, his voice soft. The boy looks at him, his body turning rigid for a moment.

"If one names a thing, it's easier to become attached to it," the boy replies.

"So I've heard," Renjun says, puzzled.

"Maybe you shouldn't know my name, then. Maybe that way it will be easier to convince you to walk away and leave."

Renjun opens and closes his mouth at the unexpected response. He wasn’t expecting a name, but he wasn’t expecting that either.

"Don't you think I can get attached to you even if I don't know your name?"

"Maybe you can," the boy says, running his hand through his hair. "But it won't hurt to try."

"I already know Jeno's name,” he presses. “I think that ruins your plan."

"Maybe, but if you knew mine, that's double the attachment.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Renjun replies. The boy stays silent, his body turned away from Renjun. “I got attached to you the moment I met you.”

At that, the boy laughs. It’s too bright, too loud. It disguises a sadness and pain that filters into his voice, and Renjun winces, wishing he could take back his words, wishing he hadn’t hurt the boy.

“Getting attached to a ghost, Renjun? That wasn’t a good idea,” the boy clicks his tongue in mockery, but it’s not enough to mask what Renjun has already heard.

"I just want to help you leave this place," Renjun insists, feeling the impatience and frustration growing inside him. He can almost sense it, time slipping through his fingers, the moment in which he’ll have to leave inching closer with every word they share, every wasted breath.

"I can't do that, Renjun. I would do it if I could, believe me, but we can’t,” the boy’s words come in a hurry, tumbling one after another, fueled by anger. “I wish it were that easy, but it isn’t and I can’t and I _won't_ leave."

"And why not?" He asks, desperate to understand, to find something with which he can convince the boy to leave that house.

"Because that would be leaving my heart behind, Renjun," he replies. His voice is soft, and filled with sorrow, all traces of ire gone. There’s a quiet resignation seeping into his words and for some reason, that scares Renjun more than anything else in the world.

“If you don’t leave, you’ll be stuck here for eternity,” Renjun whispers.

Between one second and the other, the boy moves, kneels in front of Renjun, finally showing himself. He’s close, too close for Renjun to properly see him, and his eyes are kind, kind and sad as he softly brushes away Renjun’s fringe from his forehead.

“Maybe, but maybe it’s for the best. At least I wouldn’t be alone,” his words fill the room even after he’s gone, leaving Renjun sitting on the floor, a phantom pain in his chest.

***

_“Is it recording?” Someone asks._

_There’s someone sitting down on the floor but the image is unclear and unfocused._

_“I think it is. Wait, let me see,” there’s a shuffling sound in the background. “You’re holding it upside down, dummy!” A voice cries out in mock outrage, followed by a face that then appears in front of the lens, much too close, taking up all the space. The image shakes as the camera is turned around, the boy behind it stuttering. “Now you’re holding it correctly,” the boy says, satisfied, his green hair bouncing as he enthusiastically nods, before disappearing from the frame once again. _

_“Are you ready now, Jisungie?”_

_The camera shakes up and down, and someone laughs. The image zooms in on the boy sitting on the floor. He looks young, younger than before, his bright red hair attracting all eyes. He pretends to be annoyed at the boy behind the camera, but the mirth in his smile shatters his façade._

_"I am now your official cameramen," Jisung happily announces. A low grunt follows his words, and he rushes to add, "we are your official cameramen. Chenle and I."_

_"Oh, seriously? How kind of you to let me know in advance," the boy replies with a smile._

_"You're welcome," a high pitched voice says from somewhere outside the frame. "Now, when are we going with you?"_

_"Go with me where?"_

_"Don't play dumb!" The boy whines, making his friend laugh. "We want to go with you, let us go, please," he begs, Jisung joining him with a pitiful voice. It only makes the other laugh louder, as he looks at them with fondness in his eyes._

_He shakes his head once again, smiling apologetically._

_“I’m sorry, but you can’t. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t forgive myself.”_

_“But ghosts can’t hurt us, you’ve said it yourself!” Someone, most likely Chenle, screams, his voice vibrating with indignation._

_“That’s true, they can’t hurt physically hurt us but sometimes, if they’re really scared, or strong, or just evil, they might have enough energy to affect the real world and hurt you, or even possess you, if you’re too weak to resist them. You might wander around alone and then you wouldn’t be able to see the danger. You can’t fight what you can’t see,” the boy adds, his smile gone. “I can’t promise you’ll be safe, I’m sorry.”_

_“That’s not fair, even if you can see them, it’s dangerous for you too! You need someone to protect you!” Jisung replies, his pout audible in his voice._

_The boy opens his mouth to answer, but before he can do so, a deep voice beats him to it._

_“He does! He has us for protection, isn’t that right?” _

_The camera veers to the left, as Jisung hurries to focus it on two boys that were seated out of frame. The one who’s spoken runs one hand through his raven hair, smiling brightly. His shirt hangs low on his skinny frame, threatening to slip from his shoulder. Lying beside him, his head on the other’s lap, there’s a boy, his face facing the Sun, eyes closed under his pastel-streaked fringe._

_Hastily, the boy opens one eye as the other shakes him awake._

_“Yeah, that’s right. There’s nothing to worry about, Jisungie, Chenle, our Injun is well guarded. There’s really nothing to worry about.”_

_The raven-haired boy beams at that and smiles even brighter at Injun, to which the latter replies with a smile of his own. It’s then that the other boy stares at something beyond the camera and gestures wildly, calling for someone to come closer._

_Injun follows his gaze, his smile growing smaller, fonder, before slowly disappearing. He casts his eyes down, shining with something like longing._

_The camera shifts it’s focus to the right and—_

Low battery.

The screen turns black.

***

The next time Renjun enters the house, he goes directly to the window to climb through it. Thankfully, it isn’t as hard as the first time, and he manages to catch himself before he falls down to the floor.

It’s the middle of the day, but the possibility of being caught does not frighten him. He knows not many people approach the house, scared by the rumours of ghosts and the crimes committed in it, even more so after the last developments. 

Renjun never cared, and he cares even less now. It suits his plans best that people keep their distance.

He slowly makes his way to the room in which he’s met the boys before. A part of him itches to go further into the house and explore it but another part of him, bigger, stronger, begs him to stick to what he knows is safe, and he does.

The windows are dusty and covered in grime, but the sunlight manages to pass through them, bathing the inside with a greyish light. Renjun silently thanks it, as it allows him to navigate his way through the house without tripping on the multiple objects covering the floor, the result of years of trespassing and abandonment. 

Renjun is deep in thought by the time he reaches the door that leads to his destination, and so it’s not until he’s almost there that he hears it: the muffled sounds of a conversation, something that vaguely sounds like _“get him out of here”_. Renjun holds his breath and stays still, straining to hear any part of it, but the words being spoken next are too soft for him to do so. He can only vaguely distinguish three voices, two that he knows, one that he doesn’t.

He stands right on the edge of the shadows, his shoes brushing the beam of light the filters through the open door from the windows in the room. Renjun’s as still as a statue when his eyes catch sight of a thin object laying by his feet, a photo from a Polaroid.

Something in it intrigues him, and he leans down to grab it, his fingers closing in around it with a groan as he stands up. The photo is covered in dust, and appears stepped on, but he’s able to make out several figures looking at the camera.

Gingerly wiping away the dust, he blows at it delicately to scatter the last remains, but they fly and swivel in front of his mouth and nose, particles visible under the light. Renjun turns his head away, so suddenly it makes him take a step back. He trips with himself and is about to fall down. Cursing, he manages to catch himself on time, and then freezes, a hand to his mouth, his eyes wide in realization. 

He shoots forward to walk into the room, photo slipping through his fingers, long forgotten before it even touches the ground. Still, no matter how fast he’s been, it’s not enough, as he walks up to two translucent figures turned towards him.

“Hello,” he says, breathily, staring at the two boys. “Who were you talking to?” He asks.

The boys look at each other before returning their attention to Renjun. They’re barely more than faded silhouettes, the outline of their bodies and colour of their hair the only thing visible. The pink-haired boy takes a step forward, stepping slightly in front of Jeno, as if to shield him from view. It’s then that Renjun notices Jeno’s flickering, like he’s going in and out of the spirit realm, exhaustion still weighing him down. 

“No one,” the boy replies, advancing until he forces Renjun to look at him, or at least, the little he can see of him. Renjun purses his lips.

“I heard someone speaking, someone that wasn’t either of you,” he says, daring the boy to contradict him.

“You heard wrong,” the boy firmly denies. “It’s only us here.”

Renjun lets his eyes wander around the room, almost distractedly, but with a definite purpose. He takes in the dust that covers everything, the discarded paper and photographs, the consumed candles exactly where he left them, somehow still burning. He doesn’t miss the footprints that mark someone’s presence in the room, made by feet that he knows are bigger than his own. 

There’s litter covering the floorboards, except for the place in which he had knelt that night, in front of the candles, an area he had cleaned himself in what seems like a lifetime away. His eyes catch sight of another empty space, the size and shape of a rectangular box, but not quite. It lingers in the edges of his memory, something that he knows he should remember, but it’s just out of reach, hidden in the shadows of his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t recall what was there before.

“That’s not what you told to me before. You were scared of something,” Renjun replies, trying to push the boy into giving him answers.

“It’s not the same this time,” the boy refuses.

“Then you’re saying there _was_ someone here!” Renjun says, a triumphant gleam in his eye.

“Leave it be, Renjun,” a tired Jeno replies. If he had a tangible body, Renjun imagines he would be leaning with his back against the wall, hands on his legs, eyes half-hidden by his blonde fringe. As it is, Jeno does no such thing, just hovering over the floor, so transparent he’s almost invisible. “Forget about us and this house, move on from us.”

“I can’t leave you here,” Renjun protests, for what feels like the hundred time.

“And we can’t have you here,” Jeno says, for what feels like the hundred time too. “There’s so much outside this house, Injun. Please leave this place and don’t come back.”

Jeno’s words hang in the air between them. They glimmer and shine, as fragile and beautiful and glass, suspended in time. Then, the world continues to spin and they crash to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

Renjun takes a step backward, his hand coming to cover his throat, fingers digging into the tender flesh of his neck. The pink-haired boy turns to look at Jeno, his eyes wide in surprise, as the shock makes him turn fully visible, but Renjun barely notices it, his mind still fixated on Jeno’s words. More precisely, on one word.

“I—Injun?” He asks, his voice shaking. “I’ve never told you that name, I know I haven’t.” There’s no question in his words, just a statement, a veiled accusation, and Jeno rushes to reply.

“You didn’t have to,” he says. He sounds tired, so extremely tired, like he hasn’t rested in months, but his tone is kind, familiar. “We just know things,” he continues, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And it sounds sensible, it does, and Renjun longs to believe him, but he feels like he’s in the sea, too far from the shore, and the current has gotten ahold of him and won’t let him free, dragging him to the depths, the water a black wall that stands tall around him as he sinks far beneath the surface. 

He feels like he’s been running for so long, and his lungs are about to burst and his legs about to give up beneath him but he can’t stop running, no matter how much he wants to, because he knows he won’t be able to start again when he does.

“That’s not how it works,” he says, feeling the grip of fear on his heart, a blanket around him that taints his vision. “Ghosts are ghosts, they’re not all-knowing, that’s not how it works,” he repeats, like a mantra.

“It is here,” a soft voice replies from above him.

Somehow, Renjun has fallen to his knees, his eyes cast to the floor, unseeing. Renjun looks up to find the pink-haired boy staring at him, his eyes full of softness. He extends a hand as if to cradle Renjun face’s with it, brush his fringe away from his eyes. 

Renjun stays unmoving, focused on that hand that’s slowly approaching, and it’s then that his brain whispers something to him, providing him with a word, one he shouldn’t know.

His vision blurs, and Renjun turns around and bolts, running faster than he’s never run before.

***

_"I still think it should be you." _

_The camera zooms in, then out, on a boy leaning against a lamppost. He's staring away from the camera, absentmindedly playing with the bracelet on his left hand, tugging at it nervously._

_"And why would that be?" The one behind the camera rumbles, his voice low, and filled with fondness._

_"Because you..." the boys turns his head to the camera and frowns. His eyes focus on the one behind the lens and he strides towards him, pushing his honey-coloured hair away from his eyes. “Is that Renjun’s camera? Are you filming this!? I swear to God, Jeno..." He cries in outrage, as he strides towards him._

_Jeno runs away, laughing, and the camera shakes and bounces around, pointed at Jeno's feet. The chase is short-lived, though, and soon the only thing that can be heard is their panting as they try to catch their breaths._

_The camera focuses once again on the boy, who's got his hands on his knees, breathing loudly. His eyes catch sight of the camera and he scowls._

_"You shouldn't be filming this, Jeno!"_

_"And why not, Nana?" Jeno laughs, ignoring the other's obvious worry._

_"What if he rejects us, huh? What if he's so disgusted he runs away and never wants to talk to us again and you've got it on fucking tape, huh!?" He speaks fast, his volume rising with every word that spills from his lips. There's an anxious look on his face by the time he's done, his fingers nervously tugging at his bracelet again._

_"Hey, hey, breathe," Jeno replies, his words calming the other, as he closes his eyes and breathes. Slowly, the tension leaves his body. "That won't happen."_

_"You don't know that," Nana replies, his voice strained._

_"Of course I do, but if the worst happened, then I'd delete everything right away," at that, Nana closes his eyes briefly, grimacing. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to, if you don't think you're ready," Jeno adds, softly._

_Nana shakes his head, bites his bottom lip. He stands straight, and shakes his head again._

_"No, no, don't worry. I want to do this it's just that... I'm nervous," he confesses, running his hands through his hair. "I start to think of all the things that could go wrong and... You know how I get," his cheeks are dusted with pink, the tips of his ears slowly turning red, and he averts his gaze._

_"I know. I had to ask you out, after all, because you took so long," the cheekiness in Jeno's tone makes Nana look back, an affronted look on his face, even if the smile tugging at the corner of his lips tell another story. "And, see? Everything turned out fine."_

_"Maybe you should ask him out then, Jeno. I still think you should be the one asking, anyway."_

_"Why?"_

_"He likes you so much, Jen. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you," Nana's eyes are bright as he looks past the camera, stares at Jeno._

_"He adores you, Nana, and I can see that too," Jeno replies, his voice filled with love. "No one makes him smile as much as you do.”_

_"Are you being serious right now?"_

_"Of course I am, love. It should be you. I will get my turn later, but it's time for you to work your charm like you did with me," he continues, the smile audible in his voice. Nana halfheartedly slaps at his arm and Jeno laughs, before intertwining their fingers. With the seriousness returning to his voice, Jeno continues, "I know you're scared, I'm scared too, but everything will be alright, Nana, I promise. Even if he rejects us, it will be fine."_

_Nana looks at him, nibbling at his bottom lip._

_"I know it will it's just that I really want him to say yes."_

_"And he will. And even if he doesn't, you'll always have me. You know that, right?"_

_"Of course I know that, dummy," Nana replies, looking at him with a loving smile._

_The camera then shakes a little as Jeno leans forward, pressing their mouths together in a kiss. He mumbles something against Nana's lips before returning back behind the camera._

_"I love you too," Nana says, leaning to kiss Jeno away from the frame. "Oh look, he's there. Wish us luck!"_

***

With his head hanging low between his knees, Renjun finds it easier to calm down, the sound of the wind ruffling through the leaves above him soothing. 

He’s seated on the curb, opposite to the house, somewhere he knows none of the boys will follow. Ghosts rarely move around, either due to being tied to a place or because they lack the strength needed to. Only those that are tied to mobile anchors or those that are old enough are able to move somewhat freely. The rest of them, it’s like they’re tied to a certain point, the chain stretching only so far before it forces them back.

From what he has seen, Renjun doubts either of the boys will follow him, even if they wanted to, and he’s grateful for that. He runs his hands through his hair, twisting the strands that brush the nape of his head.

He’s so immersed in himself he doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until a figure seats beside him.

The policeman looks tired, dark bags beneath his eyes, bruises against his pale skin. His mouth is set into a tight line, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept in days. With a groan, he lowers his body until he’s seated by Renjun, his long legs stretched in front of himself.

Renjun eyes him sideways, none of them saying anything at first. He can feel the body heat emanating from the man in waves, close enough their bodies would touch if one of them were to move.

“I’m Doyoung,” the policeman introduces himself, only to be met with silence. “What are you doing here?” He asks, turning his head to look at Renjun. He sounds tired, but sincere.

Renjun shrugs. “Thinking,” he replies, and because he sees the man about to launch himself into an interrogation, he rushes to add, “What are you doing here?”

The man takes the question for what it is, but just leans back, his hands on the sidewalk, fingers spread wide. He tilts his head to face the Sun, eyes closed, let’s the rays bathe him in their warmth.

“I think you know why I’m here,” he says, his voice soft. He opens his eyes, the look he gives Renjun soft around the edges. Renjun looks away, squirming slightly. “You know what we found there, don’t you?” Renjun keeps quiet, refusing to meet the policeman’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be here,” Doyoung adds, softly. Renjun snorts.

“So I’ve been told,” Renjun replies, his voice dripping with annoyance, hurt.

“Maybe you should listen to them,” Doyoung suggests. Renjun smiles, a pained smile, his lips stretched thin, devoid of colour. He shakes his head once, then again.

“I can’t leave them here,” he whispers, absentmindedly. His words are so soft Doyoung almost doesn’t hear him, barely catches the movement of his lips as he speaks.

Suddenly, Renjun stands up, a pained expression on his face. It catches Doyoung by surprise, as he watches with wide eyes Renjun starting to walk away.

“You know what happened in that house, don’t you?” Doyoung asks Renjun’s back. 

Renjun turns around to look at Doyoung, the storm brewing in his eyes enough to shatter Doyoung’s heart. He bites his lip, eyes shiny, before breaking into a sprint.

Doyoung watches him run away, not making a move to stop him or go after him. Instead, he waits.

***

_"Everyone, he said yes!" Jeno screams in happiness, his face taking up the whole frame. He's smiling broadly and his eyes have almost disappeared, replaced by twin crescent moons. "He said yes!!"_

_Someone behind him laughs and Jeno rushes to turn the camera around, pointing it towards Nana and a third boy, whose face is slowly but surely turning beet red. When he notices the camera's recording, he buries his face in Nana's neck, which in turn makes the latter shiver, his smile growing as he pets the boy's dark hair._

_"What did you say?" Nana asks, squirming slightly to look at the boy, who's still hiding in his neck. Hastily, the boy raises his head and scowls at the camera, even if his pout diminishes the effect._

_"No one's going to see this, why are you filming it??"_

_"Because we're happy, right Nana? You said yes and now we can shower you with all the love and affection you deserve and this should be recorded for posterity!" Jeno's voice is earnest, enthusiast, and his happiness rubs of on the boy, who smiles shyly. _

_"You don't have to be lonely anymore," Nana adds, his eyes filled with love. "Jeno and I will make sure of that."_

_The boy's eyes shine with unshed tears, even more so when Nana leans forward and softly kisses his cheek. Behind the lens, Jeno is silent, the camera focused on capturing the moment, until the boy shifts his eyes to look at Jeno, and extends his hand._

_"Come here, you dummy," he says, with no heat in his voice, and Jeno rushes forward._

_Once again, he turns the camera around, until their faces are all in the frame, all of them smiling brightly._

_Jeno cranes his neck, struggling to keep the camera pointed at them three, and presses a wet kiss against the boy's cheek, still grinning broadly. He grabs his hand, at the same time that Nana puts an arm around the boy's shoulders, bringing him closer. _

_The boy tilts his head until it’s resting on Nana’s shoulder, his hand firmly grasping Jeno’s, a blissed smile on his lips._

Exit the video? Yes.

***

The wood of the door feels rough beneath his fingertips, bloated with the pass of time. There’s some shuffling and a grunt, before the lock picks move in the correct direction and the door opens, even if it takes a firm push for it to really move.

Cold air slips out from the house through the crack, enough to make the ripped strands of the police tape flutter. It smells dusty, feels stagnant. For some reason, it makes him think the house is exhaling its last breath. 

The thought itself is disturbing, and he pushes it away with a shudder.

_“Come in, it’s open!” A deep voice says, suddenly._

He looks down at the camera he had carefully placed on the porch. He picks it up as he raises to stand, eyes focused on the image. 

_The camera changes hands and a boy with dark chocolate hair steps into frame. After some fumbling, he manages to open the door._

_“Make sure to film everything, don’t miss a thing!”_

_“I know, I know,” someone replies, clearly mocking the boy’s words, even if there’s no malice in his tone. Instead, it’s sweet, utterly fond._

He opens the door and steps in. The cold air inside receives him like a slap, and he instantly shivers, despite the Sun at his back, still warming him. Taking a deep breath, he steps further into the house, and gets his phone out, turning the torch function on. 

_“Be careful here, the floor is covered in shit_,”_ the light coming from the phone sweeps over the floor, as its owner carefully makes his way through the room. “How can anyone be so disgusting, oh my God?” The boy muses aloud. Behind him, someone fake gags._

_“Are you sure this is the right place for us to be?” The one who has spoken first asks. “Should we even be here at all?”_

_“Of course it is! This is the “murder house”, everyone says its haunted, it’s the perfect place for us!”_

_“Are you sure of that?” The second voice interjects, sounding slightly worried. “If it’s called like that, shouldn’t we like… Stay away?_”

Inwardly, he agrees with that boy. Slowly, he’s managed to get to the other side of the room and is standing by the door, watching as the three boys carefully inspect the space.

_“If the rumours are true, then these ghosts need our help more than any other, Jaemin!”_

_“Your,” Jaemin softly points out. The boy makes a confused sound, and Jaemin rushes to explain. “They need your help, not ours. Jeno and I don’t really do much.”_

_“That’s not true!” The boy splutters, indignant. “Jeno and you are an integral part of this team, Jaemin! I wouldn’t be able to do this without you!”_

_“Of course you would, babe. You’re absolutely fully capable,” another one, Jeno, says. The camera briefly shifts to focus on him, his eye smile visible even in the dim lit house._

_“Shut up, no I wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t want to do this without you anyway!” The boy grumbles. “And Jaemin, make sure you’re focused on the camera. We need to film as many ghosts as possible.”_

He lets his eyes wander across the room. Not much has changed from the footage in the camera, save for the footsteps he’s left behind when he’s walked in. The footprints of the other three boys are long gone.

_“I know, I know, there’s no two ghosts that are the same and all that, I know it!” Jaemin replies, with the tone of a person who’s heard the same story thousands of time but would still hear another thousand, just because they know it makes the other person happy._

_“There aren’t!! Every ghost is different, just like every person is different from the rest, and they all react in a different way when they die. Some accept it and move on, others can’t leave Earth because of unfinished business or even get stuck in loops they can’t break, some don’t even realize that they’re dead and they get up and carry on with life like nothing had happened! Some are self-aware, some aren’t, and it’s always so interesting to see how they interact with the living!”_

Despite everything, he finds himself smiling as the rant spills from the camera’s speakers, the boy’s voice raising in volume as he speaks passionately. Slowly, the boys have made their way to the point in which he’s standing, and he breathes in deeply, steeling himself.

He steps onto the hallway, peering into the darkness, his phone’s light barely enough to dispel the darkness. The hallway extends both sides, and the Sun’s rays can’t penetrate the windows, not with the grime that covers them, darkening the glass. To his left, the corridor extends into absolute darkness. To his right, it leads to stairs that reach the upper floor.

_“This is disgusting,” Jaemin says, his repulsion audible in his voice. “Someone should clean this,” he grumbles. The camera points to the floor, as Jaemin shakes his leg after having apparently stepped into a poodle._

_“It’s a haunted house, Jaemin. Who’s going to clean it, the ghosts?” Jeno snickers from behind him._

_“Well, maybe! This building is a security hazard, someone should demolish it and build something nice on top,” he continues to rumble. He does not get a response, but the lens catches a glimpse of arms stretching towards Jaemin and then movement as it leaves Jaemin’s hands, hanging on someone else’s neck. The angle changes, closer to the ground that it had been before._

_“I told you to focus on the camera, Jaemin!” The said camera turns around to accusingly stare at Jaemin, whose bright smile is visible even in the dark._

_“I’m sorry babe,” the boy replies, without an ounce of remorse in his voice, his words cheery. “But how can you want me to focus on filming the ghosts when I’d much rather film you instead?” He adds with a cheeky smile, before leaning forward. There’s a loud kissing sound and then Jaemin leans back, smiling satisfied at himself, and then turns around and walks towards Jeno, a spring to his step._

_The camera stays unmoving for a moment before the boy grumbles something under his breath, the words too quiet to be registered, but full of fondness. Then, the boy turns around and goes left, his torch lighting the way._

Carefully, he follows the camera’s image, the dust as undisturbed as it is in the recording, like the house has erased all trace of the boy’s presence. With a shiver, he expels that thought from his head, and focuses on where he puts his feet, worried he might step on a rotten floorboard and break something.

The boy is staring at everything, walking slowly, making sure to capture everything, and he adjusts his steps to the boy’s. The cold air bites at his arms, his breath turning into small white clouds in front of him, and he distantly wonders how the boy didn’t realize, just how engrossed he was on his camera to not notice the way the air felt different, how everything around him seemed to be watching him, a sentient presence waiting to strike.

_The hallway ends in a closed door. _

_He turns the handle, and it doesn’t work, not at first. He turns around briefly and takes a step towards the other end, but seems to reconsider it, for he faces the door once again. Inhaling deeply, he puts his shoulder to the door and pushes. After a few trials, he manages to open it, the hinges groaning in pain as the door moves._

_He walks in._

Breathing in deeply, he stares at the open door before gingerly taking a step forward. The inside of the room is much brighter than the rest of the house, and he turns off his phone’s light as the same time as the boy turns off his torch.

There is furniture in that room, unlike in the rest of the other’s he’s seen, and they’re covered in white sheets, pushed to the sides, leaving the center of the room free. He gets closer to it.

_The boy wanders around the room, lifting the sheets to peer underneath, almost as if he’s looking for something._

He kneels down, his knees brushing a ray of light coming through the window.

_He stands by the window, looking around. Something catches his eye on the side opposite to him. Curiously, the boy crosses to the other side of the room, the camera recording everything he considers of interest._

Placing the camera down, he extends his hand, his fingers wavering slightly.

_There’s a crash, the sound of something heavy falling to the floor, loud enough for the boy to hear. He turns around, unmoving for a second, camera forgotten in his hand, slipping between his fingers to point at the floor._

_“Jeno? Jaemin?” He calls, advancing towards the door. His voice raises in volume as he hears no answer. “Jeno!? Jaemin!?”_

_The boy reaches the door and then he must hear something, too faint for the camera to register, but loud enough for him, as he breaks into a sprint, running blindly down the dark corridor._

_“Jaemin! Jeno!” He shouts, his voice drowning everything else, even the sound of his footsteps as he sprints down the hall._

_And then it can be heard, shouts, the sounds of struggle and fighting, louder with every step the boy takes, a voice screaming for him to stay away. The boy runs faster, shouting the boys’ names like he’s praying, a plead directed at whoever may be listening, a call for help._

_“Go! Don’t come here!”_

_“Run!!”_

_But it’s too late and he is already running towards the source of the noise, ignoring his boyfriends’ desperate cries for him to stay away._

_“Jeno! Jaemin!” He shouts in response. _

_That time, there’s no response as he skids to a stop, panting loudly, camera still slightly pointed at the floor._

_“Jaemin?” He asks, approaching cautiously. “Jeno?”_

_“Get out…” A voice says, quietly, near the floor. The words are exhausted, weak, faint. “Renjun leave!” _

_But Renjun doesn’t leave, searching for Jeno in the dark._

_There’s a flash of white, a mop of pastel pink hair, a breath stuck in a throat._

Closing his eyes, he breathes in deeply, heart aching for the boy in the camera, frozen in time.

His fingers tremble as he turns the camera off, eyes burning with the sting of tears that fall down his face. He’s already seen what comes next. He doesn’t want to see it again.

Carefully, he stands up, wiping away his tears. His eyes linger on the dark circle he was kneeling beside before he turns and walks towards the entrance of the house, his heart heavy in his chest.

He has a feeling he knows what’s coming now.

“_You’ve seen it now_,” a voice says as he reaches the threshold. 

Raising his eyes, he looks at the boy, at Jeno, his blonde hair and sad eyes, his half-translucent figure. Beside him, their fingers intertwined, stands Jaemin, pink strands of hair brushing his eyebrows. Behind them, he can make out the stairs, before he hastily tears his eyes away.

“You have to help us,” Jaemin adds. His voice sounds like it’s stuck in his throat, on the verge of crying.

“I will,” he says, but they continue like they’ve not heard him.

“He wants us to leave, and he won’t stop until we do but we can’t,” Jaemins whispers, broken. “He won’t leave until we do but we will never leave without him.”

“We tried to make him see, so many times… We thought that maybe if he just saw the recording…” Jeno’s voice is pained as he stares at the camera dangling from his fingers. “But he never did. You have to help us,” he repeats, pleading, as if scared he will turn around, leave them in the dark. “You have to help us, you know everything now.”

“Know what?” A new voice asks from the entrance of the house. As they turn around they see, Renjun standing in front of the door, eyeing them suspiciously. His eyes brush over Jeno and Jaemin, lands on him. “You didn’t tell me you could see them, Doyoung,” he adds, his tone half accusatory.

Doyoung shrugs, feigning as much indifference as he can. “Didn’t really have the chance to tell you.”

“What are you doing here? What do you know? Why can he be here and not me?” The last question is not directed at him but Doyoung takes a step forward, standing in Renjun’s line of vision, and forces the boy to look at him.

“I am a cop, Renjun, that’s why I’m here. And you know what I’m here for,” he adds, as kindly as he can. 

Renjun presses his lips into a thin line and shakes his head to himself, almost imperceptibly. Doyoung sighs, and, not for the first time, he wishes he were someone else, be somewhere else. But he isn’t and he is not, and so he breathes in deeply, preparing himself.

“I know you were here when we first came because you’ve never gone too far from the house, Renjun. I saw you here that day, and I know you know what we came here for.”

Renjun closes his eyes briefly and for a moment, it seems like he, too, wishes he were someone else, was somewhere else. But he isn’t and he is not, and so he opens his eyes to look at Doyoung before he replies.

“You came to... Retrieve the bodies from the house,” Renjun says, past the lump in his throat.

Doyoung nods, not taking his eyes from Renjun's face.

"And do you know what we found here?" He presses, hating the pained expression in Renjun's face, but he doesn't relent, knowing it's his duty to do so, as much as it costs him. "Do you?" He insists, when Renjun does not reply.

"A murder scene, I guess," Renjun replies, his voice barely audible. He has a faraway look in his eyes, as if he's not really there, and maybe he isn't caught in memories of the past, reliving the moment the police broke into the house. "The bodies, a camera," he continues, his eyes flickering to the camera as if on their own accord. He licks his lips nervously, locking eyes with Doyoung and continues, "And you found them, like I did."

Doyoung shakes his head softly, and something in Renjun starts to unravel, a thread coiled so tightly around his heart the latter threatens to give out. 

"That's not exactly true, is it, Renjun?"

"What do you mean?" Renjun asks, panic seeping into his voice, as if he was cornered and alone, surrounded by enemies. He takes a step back, his eyes jumping from Doyoung to the boys, before he casts them down, closing his hands into fists.

Doyoung looks back for a split second, and both boys nod at him, encouragingly, despite the worry and fear that cloud their eyes. Doyoung turns his eyes back at Renjun.

“Do you know how many bodies we discovered here, Renjun?” Renjun looks up as he hears Doyoung, his words horrifying despite the soft tone with which they are spoken, or maybe precisely for that.

“Two,” he guesses, his voice weak, barely audible.

Doyoung shakes his head and horror takes over Renjun, so overwhelming he almost doesn’t hear what the cop says.

“Three,” Doyoung corrects. Renjun’s eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back, his hands flying to cover his mouth. He feels dizzy, nauseous. He would vomit if he could. “Three young men in their early twenties,” Doyoung continues, ignoring the loud buzzing in Renjun’s ears, the way the world seems to spin. “And they weren’t recent, Renjun. They had been here for a while,” Doyoung takes a step towards Renjun, eyes impossibly kind. “The police have been looking for you three for months, Renjun.”

"No," Renjun says, shaking his head weakly, as if that would be enough to keep Doyoung's words at bay. "No," he repeats, chanting the word again and again, his voice rising in volume with every sentence that leaves Doyoung's lips, until he's screaming, so loud it blocks everything else, but it's too late, for Doyoung's words have taken root in his brain and heart, and he knows he'll never be able to expel them. "You're lying," he whispers, eyes boring holes into the floor, unable to look at Doyoung.

"You know I'm not," and Renjun hates it, the kindness in his voice, the pity in it, wishes he could erase it, do anything to destroy it.

"You are," Renjun repeats stubbornly, refusing to believe, even as he feels the seed of doubt growing inside him. "You are lying, I'm not dead."

"Then, convince me," Doyoung says, opening his arms, like he's challenging Renjun to hit him with everything he has. Renjun looks up, his vision blurry, and Doyoung continues. "Tell me how you got here, Renjun. How did you reach the house?"

Renjun opens his mouth to reply and hesitates. He closes it again, shakes his head, almost as if in pain.

"Why is that important?"

Sympathy shines in Doyoung's eyes and Renjun hates it.

"You and I, we're the same, Renjun. You know why it's important. You've never been far from this house, Renjun, so, you either come frequently or you've never fully left," Doyoung's words are soft, quiet, but they echo in the empty room, impossible to ignore.

"But I've left the house. You've seen me leave the house, I'm not a ghost, I'm not bound to the house, I know I'm not," Renjun denies, shaking his head, clenching his teeth. He feels as if he's fighting the tide, an enormous and pointless fight that he'll always lose, no matter how hard he tries.

"You're not bound to the house, that's true," Renjun opens his mouth to reply that he already knows that, that he's not a ghost, but the words die in his mouth at the sight of Doyoung's expression, and instead, he finds himself wishing he could bolt and flee, outrun whatever the cop is about to say before it reaches him, but he can't. "You are not bound to the house, Renjun, but you are bound to someone. Or rather, to several someones. You’re bound to them, not to the house.”

Doyoung's eyes slip to the side and Renjun follows them, his heart aching as he finds Jeno looking straight at him, his arms wrapped around the pink-haired boy, his face buried into Jeno's neck.

"That can't be," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't even know them until I came here, that can't be," he looks at the three of them, pleading, even if he knows he'll find no mercy in any of them.

"That's not true, Renjun," Doyoung replies. "You all knew each other when you were alive."

"You're lying!" Renjun cries out in rage, hating how pathetic his voice sounds, trembling as he speaks. "You're lying and I don't want to listen to you!"

With that he turns around and leaves through the open door, eyes fixed on the floor. He's about to jump over the steps that lead to the porch when he hears it, a voice behind him that forces him to a stop.

"Renjun!" Slowly, almost against his will, Renjun turns around. Standing on the threshold, eyes shiny and desperate, is the pink-haired boy, his eyes fixated on Renjun. "Please don't leave, Renjun," he whispers, and his voice is so sad, so broken, that Renjun feels his own heart shatter, and wishes to take away the pain that lives in that boy, replace it with happiness to make him laugh and smile and glow. "I know you haven't completely forgotten us, please don't leave."

Renjun takes a step forward, slightly opening his arms, and he knows the boy has read on his face what he's about to say when he recoils, violently shaking his head, his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry," he says, his apology feeling inadequate in his mouth, wrong, twisted. He wants to rewind time, catch the words and take them as soon as he says them. He turns to leave, unable to stay there.

"No," the boy says, before Renjun can even take a step.

"No?" He repeats, confused, turning again to face the boy.

"No," the boy says, firmly. His eyes shine with determination through the tears, and Renjun finds himself unable to look away. "This is not how we end, Huang Renjun. We promised you you'd never have to be alone again, and we will honour that promise," his hand disappears behind his back, and then it returns, dragging Jeno to the threshold too. "We will not let you do this to yourself, we won't," Jeno opens his mouth to say something, but Jaemin doesn't let him, squeezing his hand tightly. "I know you know who I am, I know you remembered it that day, I saw it in your eyes," his voice changes then, turning softer, eyes shining with something that looks too much like love. "Don't you want it to stop too, Renjun? Won't you give us the chance to help you? You wanted to get us out of here, let us help you do it," he says, his voice lowering to a whisper, hope bleeding into his words.

"I..." Renjun starts, but whatever it is that he was about to say gets lost as Jeno, too, speaks.

"Please, Injun," hope and despair mix in his voice, and Renjun hates it, hates how it makes him feel, small and frail and selfish. "We're only asking for that, please, my love, let us help you."

Renjun turns his eyes up to stare at the sky like it contains the answer to all his questions, the ones that plague his mind and won't let him rest. And maybe the sky has no answers, just a silent witness to his suffering, but maybe those boys do, and maybe Renjun is tired of constantly fighting and running only to find he's never moved from where he first started, lying on the cold, hard ground, staring at stars that will never answer back.

He closes his eyes and makes his choice.

"Jaemin," he whispers. The name leaves Renjun's lips like it belongs there, a blessing and a curse, a cooling touch to soothe the burn that leaves in its wake. Renjun's face is pained as he looks at both boys, and Jaemin looks close to tears, Jeno the only thing preventing him from crossing the distance between them and enveloping Renjun in a hug. "I don't understand," Renjun says, his voice soft, a whisper that get lost in the wind.

Doyoung takes a step forward, sidestepping Jeno and Jaemin, sympathy shining in his almond eyes, and Renjun hates it, hates the knowledge that the answers he seeks will destroy him, hates what he's starting to glimpse through the fog in his mind.

"Everything's here, Renjun," he says, extending his right arm.

Renjun stares at the camera Doyoung is offering him, like it's some wild animal, about to come to life and pounce on him, attack him and leave him bleeding on the floor, and maybe it is. When he makes no move to grab it, Doyoung gently places it on the floor in front of him, near the steps. Renjun's eyes jump from the camera to Doyoung to Jeno and Jaemin to the camera once again, and he closes his fist, feeling his nails leave indentations on the tender flesh.

On wobbly legs, he makes his way to the steps, lets his body fall unceremoniously on one of them, feeling his fear raising around him, threatening to choke him. 

Mindlessly, almost on their own accord, his hands move towards the camera, itching to touch it. His fingers come to gently caress it, taking in its smooth lines and bumpy surface. It looks old, worn with time, but taken care of. One side of it, however, looks like it suffered a big fall, leaving it battered. It's obvious it has been cleaned recently, but not thoroughly, as there are still remains of dark stains on that same side.

Renjun shakes his head, his throat dry. "It didn't use to look like this."

Doyoung shakes his head too. "It didn't, I'm sorry."

Before Renjun can say anything else, Doyoung presses a button, and the camera turns on, a myriad of videos to choose from. The miniatures don't make for a nice preview of the video, but Renjun can tell they go over many years. Doyoung selects the last one, and fast forwards it to a specific moment.

"Are you ready?"

Renjun looks up, his eyes wide. "No," he admits, his impulse to flee stronger than ever. His eyes flicker to where Jaemin and Jeno are standing, fingers intertwined, looking at him. "But do it.”

***

_“Jaemin! Jeno!” Shouts Renjun from the door, as he breaks into a sprint and runs towards the other two._

_It’s faint at first, drowned by his voice, but it gets clearer as he gets closer to the source of the sound, the shouting and struggle and fighting. Someone, Jeno, shouts for him to stay away, but Renjun merely runs faster, his boyfriends’ names spilling from his lips like water overflowing a dam. _

_“Go! Don’t come here!”_

_“Run!!”_

_It doesn’t matter what Jeno and Jaemin shout at him, if there ever was a chance that Renjun would stay away, it’s long gone by now._

_“Jeno! Jaemin!” Everything around him is pitch black as he runs, the corridor stretching impossibly long ahead of him, a never ending tunnel closing in around him, Jeno and Jaemin the light he can’t yet see but that he knows awaits on the other side._

_Except, this time, there’s no response to his cries as he finally skids to a stop, panting loudly, camera pointed at the floor. Only silence greets him as he slowly resumes his approach._

_“Jaemin? Jeno?” He asks as he walks cautiously. The darkness around him is too thick for him to see anything, for the camera to register anything, but that doesn’t deter him._

_“Get out…” A voice says, quietly, near the floor. The words are exhausted, weak, faint. “Renjun, leave!” _

_But Renjun, doesn’t leave, searching for Jaemin in the dark. His fingers look for his torch, and after a couple of tries he manages to turn it on, the bright beam of light momentarily blinding. It lands on the wall opposite to him, lightening nothing but the wooden planks of it, before Renjun swings it around._

_There’s nothing to see, not at first, and then the torch brushes over a heavy vault at the end of the stairs, one that was not there before. Renjun takes in an audible breath before directing the torch down. _

_Jaemin’s eyes are wide open as they catch the torch’s light. Lifeless and empty, they are directed at Renjun, looking but not seeing, a thin trail of blood running down his ear and over his nose. His left foot is caught under the vault, right hand in front of his face and even from where Renjun is standing it’s obvious the angle at which his neck is bent is impossible._

_The scream that leaves Renjun’s lips has no words, just pure, gutural despair that springs from within himself, slitting his insides open on its way up, ripping his heart out._

_Sobs make Renjun shake so bad he falls to his knees and he extends his hand as if to touch Jaemin’s, hovering about him, just shy of doing so._

_He tries to stop crying, taking large gulps of air to keep the sobs from coming, but he can’t._

_“Je-jeno? Where are y-you?” He asks, his voice trembling and thick with the tears that keep falling. One of them lands on the lens, making everything blurry on its way down, but Renjun doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. _

_Renjun makes a sweeping movement with his torch, looking for Jeno. He manages to find him, standing to the right of the stairs, and Renjun lets out a breath of relief._

_“Jeno! You’re fine,” he cries in relief, hiccuping so much he can barely be understood. “Jae-Jaemin, he…,” he starts, unable to form the words._

_“Renjun, you have to leave.”_

_“What?” He asks, voice filled with incredulity. “What do you mean?”_

_“Renjun, you have to leave now!” Jeno shouts, his voice filled with terror, and Renjun stops speaking, takes the time to fully take in the state his boyfriend is in, his bloody fingers and torn clothes._

_Darkness is closing in around them when Renjun asks, “What happened, Jeno?”_

_Jeno shakes his head, his eyes catching momentarily on Jaemin’s unmoving form, pain filling them before he turns back to look at Renjun. “It’s not the time, you have to leave right now!”_

_Still, Renjun doesn’t listen. His hands are shaking as he wraps them around the camera, lifts it to his eyes, and it’s then that he sees, shadows too dark to be shadows, circling them, a dark mass behind Jeno. It’s then when he sees what his tears had hidden, the way that Jeno glimmers in the dark, faded silhouette against the black. _

_The light of Renjun’s torch passes through him, lands on the opposite wall._

_“Jeno…,” Renjun whispers. He sounds lost, in pain. “I don’t understand.”_

_Jeno opens his mouth to speak, but something catches his attention and he turns his head to Renjun’s left. Renjun follows his movement and a pained cry leave his lips._

_On top of the stairs, lying on a heap, is Jeno. Or at least, his body is. The darkness has concentrated around him and pulls him up like he’s a puppet, before part of it enters his body. _

_For a moment, nothing happens, Jeno’s body standing awkwardly, swinging from side to side. Then, he opens his eyes, pitch black against his paling skin, and looks straight at Renjun._

_Jeno shouts for him to leave and Renjun hurries to obey, scrambling to pull himself up. His first instinct is to leave through the front door, but the part of the darkness that hasn’t invaded Jeno’s body is there waiting for him, and Renjun turns on his heel and runs towards the room he was in before._

_The corridor seems even longer than it had last time, and no matter how fast Renjun tries to run, Jeno’s steps always seem right behind him._

_He barges into the room and runs towards one of the windows. He tries to open it, but it’s locked and no matter how much he pulls, he’s not able to do it. Panting, he runs towards the next, constantly turning his head to monitor the door, see if Jeno’s coming, the camera jumping with every sudden move he makes. Still, he has no luck, and Renjun cries in frustration._

_Turning around, he tries to look for another way out, but all the windows are locked, and there’s only one exit. Before he can even think of hiding, Jeno appears on the threshold, a faint, eerie smile on his lips._

_Renjun takes a step back, a litany of “no” leaving his mouth, as he desperately tries to keep the spirit that possessed Jeno’s body away, but it’s of no use. Soon, he finds himself hitting the wall behind him, with nowhere left to go and Jeno continues to walk towards him, that smile never leaving his lips._

_Stepping into a pool of sunlight, something glistens in Jeno’s hand: a knife, its blade long and sharp, covered in dark stains. Most appear to be old, but something drips down the length of the blade to the floor and Renjun sobs. _

_Desperate, not wanting to give the other a chance to get closer, Renjun tries to run past him and towards the door, but as fast as he moves, there’s nowhere to hide in that room, and Jeno’s hand shots forward._

_Renjun cries out and trashes against Jeno’s grip. There’s a low grunt and Renjun manages to break free, throws himself at the door, desperation fueling his movements, but before he can reach it Jeno recovers, his footsteps deafening behind Renjun._

_Renjun’s fingers are grazing the door’s threshold when Jeno’s hand closes in around him and pulls him back into the room, throws him to the floor. Something rips with the movement and the camera is sent flying, spiraling wildly before it lands on the floor with a loud thump, the lens cracking with the impact._

_The only thing it sees are the foot of the two boys, the sounds of struggle the only thing it hears. They disappear of frame for a moment, and there’s a gurgling sound, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor._

_Everything stays still for a second, suspended in time._

_Then, Renjun falls backward, his head hitting the floor so hard it bounces back, but he doesn’t move. His head turns towards the camera, hand extended as if to grab it. _

_Something else falls to the ground, and there are voices calling for Renjun, but he’s not there to reply to them._

_Instead, his eyes stare emptily at the camera until the light disappears from them, colour slowly bleeding from his face through the gash in his neck, a macabre and twisted version of a smile._

_It’s the last thing the camera records before powering itself off, the lens stained with red._

***

Renjun’s hands are shaking by the time the video finishes, and there are tears falling down his face. He wipes them away, hastily. A part of him records the fact that ghosts _can_ cry, but there’s too much going on in his head for him to really think about it.

“Three months?” He whispers, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach. “I’ve been dead for three months and I didn’t know?”

Doyoung doesn’t answer. Instead, someone kneels to his right, and takes his hand, softly bringing it to his lips. Jeno. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jaemin approach, sit to his left.

“We tried to tell you, Injun but you wouldn’t accept it,” Jeno says, and his tone is so soft, so full of love and sorrow it makes Renjun want to cry even more.

“Too much guilt,” Jaemin adds. His hand comes up to Renjun’s face and tucks his hair behind his ear. It feels strange, to have their hands touching him. It’s not like when they were alive, can’t feel the warmth from their bodies, but it’s comforting, to have someone finally touch him. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed it until then. “You mixed the past with the present, thought you were still live and that we were just another pair of ghosts you had to help. Every time you started remembering what had happened you blacked out, and forgot us all over again.”

Renjun nods, still feeling dizzy. They had seen it before, in ghosts that hadn’t been able to advance due to the guilt. Some could never accept it, becoming too much for them. They forgot everything about it, became stuck in a loop they couldn’t break free from. 

He closes his eyes, feeling a new wave of tears approaching, and grips tightly Jeno’s hand.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. He can barely get the words out, as broken and sad as they are. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry.”

Jeno and Jaemin look at each other and shake their heads, both at the same time.

“No, Renjun, you’ve got it all wrong,” says Jaemin.

“We’re not blaming you, we’ve never blamed you. We decided to come here with you, and if we could back in time, we would still come,” Jeno intertwines their fingers, presses a kiss to Renjun’s knuckles.

“We promised we’d never leave you, Injun, no matter what.”

Renjun sobs, feeling unworthy of that, and maybe Jeno and Jaemin know, because the next thing he knows, he’s got them draped around him.

“You are our boyfriend, Renjun. We love you no matter what, and nothing of what happened here is your fault,” Jeno whispers against his neck.

Doyoung approaches them at that moment, slips a picture across the floor to Renjun. Jeno and Jaemin move to give him space to look at it, and Renjun sobs again, smiling against his own will: it’s a picture of the three of them, from the day they asked him out. It’s a bit dusty, frayed with time, but their bright smiles are still blinding, the sheer happiness in their eyes still obvious.

“I found it in the house, figured you’d like to know it’s safe,” Doyoung says. Renjun nods, and shots him a teary smile, mouthing his gratitude. 

“What now?” Asks Jaemin, his hands tracing pattern against Renjun’s back. The three of them look at Doyoung, expectant.

In return, Doyoung smiles at them, kindly.

“You know what comes next, you’ve seen it already. It’s time for you to move on and leave this place. All of you,” he says, pointedly looking at Renjun. 

“What will happen to the house, to the spirits here?” Renjun asks in turn, thinking about all those that might have met their end there, all those that might find theirs in the future too.

“There’s not much I can do but I’ll try my best to help those inside. You don’t have to worry about that anymore, Renjun.”

“What about our families?” Jaemin asks. “Do they know?”

“Not yet,” Doyoung replies, and Renjun closes his eyes. lets out a shaky breath. “You never told anyone where you were going, so we weren’t able to tell them anything until we identified you, but I will be going to your homes tomorrow morning. But now, it’s time for you to go,” he says, his tone not open to discussion.

“Doyoung,” he says, and waits for Doyoung to look at him. “There’s another picture in the house, one of us with all our friends,” he says, remembering the photograph he let on the floor, what feels like a lifetime ago. “Could you please give it to our parents? Let them know were happy, and that they don’t have to worry about us?”

“Tell them we’re sorry too,” Jeno says, the tears audible in his voice.

Doyoung nods, smiling softly. “Of course I will. You can go now, boys. You’ve done well.”

The three of them raise and stand up, hands interlocked. 

It’s weird, Renjun muses, how, just hours ago, he thought he was alive, but he’s feeling more real than ever now, after learning he’s been dead for months. The wind blows softly around them and the Sun shines above them. They can’t feel either of those things but for the first time in months, they finally feel at peace.

Renjun feels it then, the tension around him unravelling, falling from his shoulders. He tilts his head to the left, burying his face in the crook of Jaemin’s shoulder, tightens his grip on Jeno’s hand, and Jeno squeezes back.

Closing his eyes, he stops resisting, feels weightless. Around them, everything is peaceful.

***

Doyoung opens the door of the car, lets himself fall on the seat, rubs his face with a sigh. Fingers come to rest against his chin, softly caressing it, and he leans into the touch, smiling to himself.

“Tough day?” A voice to his left kindly asks.

“You have no idea,” he groans, turning his head to look at his interlocutor. Jaehyun is smiling at him, a faint trace of worry as he takes in Doyoung’s tired appearance. “I’ll be fine, Jaehyun, don’t worry.”

“You know I always worry, Doie,” is the reply. Jaehyun looks down at Doyoung’s lap, “I take it went well?”

Doyoung follows his eyes, and stares at the camera and the photographs he’s still holding.

“It did. They’re finally at peace, Jaehyun.”

“I’m glad,” Jaehyun says, as he starts the car. “They deserve it.”

Inwardly, Doyoung agrees. His heart aches for the boys, stuck in that house, each in their personal hell, forced to relive the worst moment of their lives over and over again. He brushes his fingers over their smiling faces in the photo, and thinks of Renjun, the macabre irony of his situation. 

He had lived chasing a dream. In death, he had become his worst nightmare.

“Are you going to give those to their parents?” Jaehyun asks, breaking the trance Doyoung’s in.

“Yes. I think they’d like to have them.”

“Did they leave a message?” Doyoung hums. They always do. “Do you think they will believe you?”

“Yes. People need something to believe in, and if they knew Renjun then… It’ll be easier to convince them.”

“Do you think they will be fine?” Jaehyun always asks that, worried about where ghosts might go once they’re free.

Doyoung thinks back to the boys, to the picture he took of them when they weren’t looking, the three of them standing facing the Sun, basking in its light, their hands locked. They are half-translucent, the trees almost visible behind them, but the smiles in their faces where ones of happiness, joy, a bond stronger than death keeping them together.

He smiles.

“As long as they have each other, I know they will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> So... Yeah, Renjun was always a ghost even if he didn't know it (hence the warning) and I feel bad for doing the three of them so dirty but... There was no other choice...  
I really hope you've enjoyed this, and I'd really like it if you could tell me what you thought! Kudos and comments warm my heart <3
> 
> [tw](https://twitter.com/starryjinsouls) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/Val_99)
> 
> \- Val


End file.
